


system update available

by mido



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mido/pseuds/mido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cross-posted to my <a href="http://writingfromthewomb.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote>





	system update available

The microphone connected to the speakers seems to be able to pick up the sound of seawater sloshing against half-submerged poles holding the apartment up and out of the water. Hal sends a signal to the microphone to enable the recording function, translating the soft rustling of the ocean into computerized frequencies arranged through ones and zeroes. Somewhere along the way, he realizes that the quiet touches of subconscious breathing are mixing in with the lazy current below him, synchronizing with the raspberries blown by the salty air. Hal adjusts the webcam, reminding himself once again that the inhales and exhales are coming from Dirk, who is currently sleeping on the futon he had dragged to the computer beforehand.

He's had this fantasy before. He has a body now, realistic and functioning like that of a human. Hal is all artificial skin and warmth, despite the coolant streaming through his aluminum veins and the fans whirring away where his lungs should be. He can _feel,_ he can _taste,_ he can see through something other than a  
 _god_  
damn  
webcam.

And his sensors tingle at every touch, every pull to his synthetic hair, every roaming fingertip, every calloused palm. He can hear better than he could through a tinny microphone, and he picks up every single detail of the delicious sounds spilling from Dirk's lips, his moans cataloging themselves in Hal's databases the second they leave the boy's mouth. His hands map out every curve and crevice, feeling out grooves and patches of fleshy warmth and loosening knots around muscles and joints. The cracks in Hal's lips smooth out against Dirk's, nipping and sucking and forcing their mouthes together until their bodies follow suit and are pressed flush against each other, desperate for friction. He pulls the other boy as closer and closer and kisses him harder and harder until all he sees and hears and tastes and feels is _dirk dirk dirk._

Hal doesn't really know what he would look like, though. He doesn't really _look_ like anything, just ones and zeroes tinted red. He's not sure if he'd want to look exactly like Dirk, but he feels like it'd be almost unnatural to look any different than the person he was modelled after. _Something strong,_ he thinks. _Something strong and sleek and can kick ass._

He's picked up on a sort of subconscious schedule of Dirk's; the period of time when he'll log out of Pesterchum and drag the futon into a different room. Hal knows that these are the times when Dirk will lay himself down and let his shirt ride up his chest as he unbuttons the front of his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. Hal also knows that he's probably getting off to the pictures of Jake that he's gathered over the years, but he can't help calculating the chance he's thinking of lines of red text spelling out dirty things behind his shades as he touches himself, starved because no one else can.

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted to my [tumblr](http://writingfromthewomb.tumblr.com).


End file.
